


The Perfect Costume

by JantoJones



Series: Further Brief Briefings [36]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 18:44:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18816811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	The Perfect Costume

“So, what are going to go as?”

“I am not telling you,” Illya Kuryakin replied, for the hundredth time, to his partner’s question. “You will find out tonight.”

The two agents had been invited to the birthday party of another Section 2 agent, and it was to be a costume party. Illya had initially balked at the thought, until the perfect costume idea had come to him.

“I’ve decided on Beau Brummell,” Solo told the Russian.

“That seems about right for you,” Illya answered, with a wry smile. “A Regency dandy, known for his impeccable dress-sense, and perfect wit. My costume also reflects something of me.”

“Don’t just give me clues,” Napoleon almost whined. “Tell me already.”

“I shall see you at Pete’s apartment,” said Illya.

With that he headed off towards the commissary.

.........................................................................................................................................

Napoleon arrived at the party before Illya and, after only twenty minutes, he was already tired of his costume. The clothing of a dandy had turned out to be terribly constricting but, with a bit of luck, Napoleon would find someone to help him out of it later on. Illya arrived at 8:15 pm, causing all heads to turn in his direction.

He was wearing tight silver trousers with pale blue flecks, silver shoes, a pale blue pirate style shirt, and a silver waistcoat. On his head, perched at a slightly jaunty angle, was a silver and blue velvet coronet. The whole ensemble was finished off with a pale blue sash.

Napoleon watched the women in the room as Illya walked towards him. For a man who didn’t like to be noticed, he was doing a very bad job of it. All the so-called modern women, who didn’t need a man to define then, were practically swooning in his wake. Napoleon tried not to let his jealousy show. Illya was his closest friend, but it annoyed him slightly how little work the blond had to put in to get women to notice him.

“What are you supposed to be?” he asked, handing Illya a glass of punch. 

“Can you not guess?”

“Prince Charming?”

“Almost,” Illya replied, with a chuckle. “I am the Ice Prince.”


End file.
